Rotundus Fugo
by Vampiratelady
Summary: A round chase is all that it is from the very beginning. And an unlikely force is twisting and turning them around until no more ulterior motives, no cunning words, no more to take, and no more to give until they can't run from it. JE.


**Author's note**

The school had just started and I can't find a little space of time for my stories, thus I've been dead so far. You know how I loved all those stories in here. That's why it's really disheartening how I can't read one.

This story happened after the third movie. Five years actually after the battle against EITC. There will be a few confusing parts as well as the flashbacks I've written. But as soon as the story progressed they will clear eventually. I'll be rooting all for you guys to review on this one! I hope the characters is not out of character at the least. I love Jack and Elizabeth too much to break them. Sparrabeth factor! I'll leave William and not disturb him anymore.

I don't own them. So, save money, save me, eh?

**Summary**

A round chase is all that it is from the very beginning. And an unlikely force is twisting and turning them around until no more ulterior motives, no cunning words, no more to take, and no more to give until they can't run from it. Dark past and desperate for a future of two unknowing paths. Which one will they take? Who will be left behind?

Betrayals and forgiveness, lies and truth.

They will find themselves in a game that could slice rather very deep.

* * *

**The Starting Line**

* * *

_Friends and unexpected guest_

Captain Jack Sparrow stood braced against the wheel with his hands expertly set upon its spokes, the ship swayed slowly with grace, enticing but with a venomous mixture of sweet gold honey and sandal wood perfume he could have tasted in his dreams. The winds caressed his face, combed with the spray of the sea as he watched the subvert patches of colliding violet, gray and pink touch in the sky that marked the ebb of the looming sun. It was almost dark. And he was most certainly not with any pleasant company to elude the beaten scent of the drubbing year past. _Ah, that's why_. He merely noted the sober ability of his rum-logged mind, cursed it, for remembering her whether with rum or not. It was almost too unbearable. Jack Sparrow had been revealed of the realization he had not foretold. But that voodoo witch did and he was given the impression that her 'future' opinion of him was getting too ominous. She, the oriented Mrs. Turner, and his desperate plan to elude her storms were turning to the fate.

These weren't the waters he knew so well. The winds didn't felt like it when it breathed into his face, the sea, it seems was a strange flow of coldness under the ship. She wasn't familiar with him yet, and he too, didn't felt her answering sails, her siren call to the moving grace of the world. Jack was not feeling secure, more less than secure he often felt. This place wasn't glimmering under the light of the sun as what it seems in the Caribbean.

Disturbed and fairly peeved, Jack felt the sudden change around him. It was not certainly her presence but likewise, discomforting. Tai Huang, he acclaimed with mild doubt and saw glimpse of the apparent disapproving look on the man's face as he pushed through the shadows with dark observing eyes. Sao Feng's men, especially, his first mate, were suspicious layabouts and too much loyal for a little change in the nature. They liked captain's in dresses more so.

"That'd be a considerable point," He nodded at the pirate with an impish grin. Huang didn't expect the surprise underneath but deliberated whether it was just a faked reliable words from the none other infamous captain or traditional Chinese was supposed to be a very heavy book for a genius, and he was more then one. And by the words spreading around, he often used both. But the sailor was bemused by his very calm or almost patient demeanor, something that was very grave. His look had almost pertained to a contriver conquering a nation.

"She'll show up there." Huang nodded, convinced this man was not to be underestimated like any other. His former captain once said so. The King said so. "Is there anything else, _Captain_?"

Huang was sure the rumors were not all lie as he observe carefully his small expressions; a signature smile, a tip towards the horizon- "Hoist the winds up," Jack fingered a gold bead-

"The rum is waiting."

Jack Sparrow was a man of freedom.

* * *

It was too early in the morning, the sun was just starting to rise up from the blue surface of a line, from beyond the horizon still when she woke up. The fluttering black sails whistled in the refracting tails of the winds as the cricking duet of the ship followed through the symphony. The rigging lines were like plucking cords of a guitar and the ticking floor boards danced along the tune as the tasks were mostly done; some of the crew were already resting on the polished deck. When had they start to work too much? Yesterday, was too scurrilous for men of fourties and youngs of sixteens but it was still their work and she was paying them up with considerable value. They look rather more sober from drinking than tired from the labor, their hats were low over their closed eyes as their hands clutched possessively around their kept bottles obvious hideouts, under their coats. Captain Elizabeth Swann observed with the difficulty not to roll her eyes or even make a gag about reliving them of the loads they seem to be obsessed about. Like captain, like crew. What really could she do about it? They're a men of mutiny, she noted with amusement as a certain pirate captain entered her mind. She couldn't afford a delay, sitting in a beach with no rum to burn at all.

A furred, tiny hands clutched her shoulder as the pressure of being pulled down had quickly went away. Elizabeth shifted to balance the sudden heaviness and paused her examination of the piece of cloth in her hands to render the source of the interruption and raised her eyes to one side. There, a pair of small eyes stared down at her, his small head tilting in curiosity at her short display of surprise until his eyes caught her hands, the object clutched between seems the new target of his neatness in getting his grasps at anything he found interesting.

"What do you think about this, hmm, Jack?" Elizabeth patted the monkey on her shoulder as she parted the cloth flat up to see and clipped it between the two fingers of each hands. She glanced at the animal from the corner of her eyes, hiding a smile as though they had some deep secret to each other. The monkey screeched and wiggled around in answer.

"So, you like maps?" She tucked the cloth back into her coat and turned towards the helm.

"Hoist some winds," She ordered, whoever heard her started to scramble in his drunkenness, waking the others at their wake and oaths of woman as bad luck.

"We'll wear some pain."

* * *

Blue Danube

She was listening for many hours as the music changed and changed. It was the sixth times already: five dances, and four glass of a very bitter-tasting wine, dark red like blood. Was there any rum? She sipped once again as the skin around her mouth wrinkled in a frown. She was truly wearing some pain, a corset with a light shades of green, bare shoulders, shirred bodice and sleeve caps with beaded trim across the neckline and shoulders and a low crevice that was really offending the other women in the wide room of a British governor by the name of Allcot Bolster. It was really an awkward dress, it felt too awkward, too bare yet too...trapping. Her dark blond hair was tied in a bun, heavy upon her head as it had grown longer through time. She didn't know how much she loathed these things that she was very much accustomed of years ago.

Her eyes wandered around the room, saw some men glancing at her way. She quickly looked away as though something caught her eye. She did try. Them again.

Scoffing, she looked down at the floor, her arm across her stomach, the back of her hand was beneath the other elbow which abandoned the glass to a maid. Her back was against the marbled wall, twinkling like a gold and white as a dove, she can almost see her reflection like glass. The room smelled of jasmine and rose that was wafting in the air, the high ceiling and the painted structure of angels above, it was a Christian culture, a mark and she can barely remember the names of the saints her advisors forced them to pray. The gold bells and chandeliers of perfect alignment adorned the ceiling. There were yellow ribbons tied to the chairs and tables but she prefer to stand and observe the place with slight nonchalant. She was, after all, a Governor's daughter. The tradition didn't left her mind yet but she could just conceal them with a reckless flourish of the hands in a swordplay, in the agility to use daggers, and the preciseness to aim pistols at any target, in a witty remark no proper lady should use, and steer a grand ship all over the seven seas without worrying about the fairness of the skin women loved to maintain.

She didn't doubt the invitation to be any less than what she wished it to be. A fancy event, meaning, dull. She kept silent and cursed the time, the governor should have arrived already. She should have finished the task before or after dawn but it was almost midnight and she was rather suffering from the practicality of the obvious profit lawns, corruption, some of the visitors were here for the sake of strengthening their family regime, and others' completely worthless of her interest. But she can't help but read them anyway. From her sides and behind her, Elizabeth could hear what conversation was about even if she didn't try to be near listening.

It was by the expressions, gestures and the character; she could guess that the four ladies from the far side of her right was talking about dancing with the perfect man they kept glancing at. Elizabeth looked at the man, quickly assessing his attire with curiosity. He seems rather uncomfortable somehow. His black wig was slightly disheveled and- was it gliding? She noticed one side of his hair was longer and the other side is shorter. His forehead was rather lighter in skin than the very bearded face. Elizabeth caught his strange moving around the buffet table as the drinks that were lined up was receiving a glare or a frown from him.

She stared down at her own glass, she haven't even drank half of her wine. She felt all too uncomfortable. The dress was thin that she felt cold in the shoulders and feet. She used to wearing boots all the time and a loose shirt and coat in facing weathers around Singapore, China, Indonesia, and Caribbean. She didn't like being here among all the other places and the worst of all taverns she had went.

Elizabeth tapped her shoes, bent the other and straightened once against against the wall. Her senses were nervous, quite sensitive for some reason. These people were part of the high society she once belonged with. She heard civil war, the East India Trading Company and the familiar and known names of the high seas criminals. Beckett's motives were neatly covered. No one knew, except for the beloved queen and her magistrates most likely. The knowledge was a step over a steep hill if it leaked- officially. But when you go to Tortuga's town and beach, this things were just what every day was for its citizens.

These lots were for the law; no Flying Dutchman and no Calypso.

Frustrated, she kicked a leg of a chair and walked further away to a corner. Her nose twitched. That smell. She looked down at the plant beside her. It smelled stronger there. The two niggling oafs must have been doing something foolish. She walked forward, in search for the two former navy soldiers, now her crew. She had trusted them to know how to act proper and formal. They did. And seems missing it too much. She stopped, seeing a two bodily figure of fat and thin eating like pigs. She just wished they still remembered the plan. And remembered well _who's left behind, is left behind._ She had such a hard time inserting the pirate codex in their heads that she thought leaving them the next port. Well, she could leave them here...if the plan went to chaos.

Another music started, she had to get away. She quickly took her dress in a balm of fists and walked carefully away from any man that would-

" Mag ik dansmilady hebben?" She froze and stared down at the open palm that was preventing her escape. Damn.

_ "__I heard yer in need of quite capable hands."_

_Blue eyes, deep as the sea and sinister than any storm. _

_ He's a bloody blue man. _

_"You have some such keen ears, Mr. Sparrow."_

_The map, it's still not quite sure, Jackie. But if you want immortality then. _

_"I mean hands, but if you want ears too, I might think about it."_

_You're throwing yourself to those heartless mongrels. _

_It's not throwing, what's life without risk, eh? __"You can work for me."_

_And you'd get the Fountain. Don't listen to him. _

_"So do we have an accord?" I said don't listen. _

_"What do you know of the pirate king?"_

_Maybe, that map is incomplete too. Oi, Jackie? _

_"How much do I know of her?" You wouldn't know until you try. _

_"__Yes." Didn't he tried the compass already? _

_"__Not much, conventional call of rashness, is all." ..._

_"__Agreed, then."_

He was the man in the brown coat she was watching moments ago. He was leaner and thiner than what she had thought from afar, but handsome nevertheless with a confident stand.

"Natuurlijk." She smiled and took the bearded man's hand, afraid she might start some trouble if she refuse. She felt him squeezed gently, with a fleeting moment of suspicion, she let it go. He led her to the front rows of some couple dancers. They faced each other and took a vow before their hands clasped together, body close, feet moving with ease and unhampered skill. Following the music, following each other as though they were one and alike. Sails with the mast, the sea and a ship- peas in a pod. They were floating amidst the sound of the orchestra playing. Neither care for the underlying commodity of obligations and facades.

Eyes bore upon eyes. Chocolate brown and dirty gold fought locked with one another. His hat casting shadows over them and hers filled with curiosity as she regarded his appearance. A dark blue, almost black, coat with beaded sleeves and gold seams in his shoulders, a crimson tunic beneath its parted artifact and a clean white inner shirt with gold chain cuffs, tassel trim and ribbon drawstrings. His face tanned with scruffy facial hair that reminds her of Gibbs.

He twirled her around and back again, now much closer that his breath trickled her face, her cheeks. Her cheeks, she felt, were burning and her nose too. Then there it was.

This man.

The people standing near the stair case cleared away. A golden wig, blue coat as well as pants. Men in dark suits followed close and stopped at each other sides of whom she assumed was the Governor Allcot Bolster. Elizabeth bit her lip, and he was just a few feet away from them. She have to move quickly, reaching for the pistol at her thigh, her heart raced, smelling the potent smell, tasting it in her half-opened mouth with the sweat. She was breathing raggedly. He was too close. This man, he was raising his arm. A pistol. Gold. His smile and those dark eyes.

She was getting lost. Pull the trigger. Pull it. Just pull the damn thing. Oh, Dear...

"Lovely dance, luv."

* * *

Damn. Damn. Damn!

She bit her lip. Screams, cries and furious words she had hardly paid any attention to; they were going to a rampage, everyone were running, knocking everything and anything on the way, the disturbing two were dropping the plates and started to ran towards her. Just in time. She cursed. Feeling him roughly pulled at her arms, she saw her feet smudged the streaming blood. Just in time. He was dead. A governor right? That man was dead, not her father. Still. The image of the hole gone by the bullet shot right in the middle of his chest and his clothes, costly now gone with the queasy pool of red. She felt the unusual remorse in seeing people die, dead; whether by her hands or not. The mission failed, or was it successful. He was already dead anyway. What is Jack got to do with this?

"Hold up there, mate." Cold. There was a barrel right against her temple. It cocked. Mulltog and Mullroy came into a halt. _Jack wouldn't shoot her for dear life._ "Or the lady." His deep slurred voice was so clear like a glinting blade to her now. _Or maybe he would_.

She was, for a second, was thrilled and breathless with the memories. That was why he managed to keep her within his attempted distraction without any stratagem, knowing it would not have worked with her. But it did. Why hadn't she noticed? He was right there; behind her as her captor once again. She, his captive for the second time.

_Commodore, I really must protest_

_It seems enough to condemn him._

_Finally_

_Click_

There were ten. And ten pistols. The men aimed them at Jack, and probably, her too. "What are you gonna do now?"

She watched with steel eyes as the men took a step forward. "They have guns." She said, her sarcasm was slowly drifting to the edge of her control. Oh, suck it. The plan went into shreds, yet the designated man was dead. Elizabeth won't just accept his victory that easily than the scoundrel was thinking. Of course, she believed Jack had her as a 'willing' lady, he was confident that she won't put him into any peril more than the situation represented already. She won't run away from his hard grip as though he wasn't that at all trusting her. It was not fascinating at all to see him, now, on the likely basis he might end up hanged or even not- shot, maybe. Tortured, maybe. No, not at all. The watery daggers were upon their throats, the men, them and there will be more bloodshed.

"I think I have too, dearie." Elizabeth rolled her eyes at his playfulness at moment of facing two crossed bones. Make it double, this could be both their ends.

"A _one_ pistol? You have your other arm preoccupied, Jack, which I knew you won't be using for more awhile." She spat, seeing he could only frown in silence. "And don't tell me it only have one shot too?

"Thankfully it isn't. If so, I know you have a spare somewhere hidden in that...bodice." He whispered huskily against her ear as the tremor increased. She wasn't wrong, it was the usual smell of rum in him. Usual-

Elizabeth scowled, looking down. "You're despicable as always." She shifted uncomfortably to try doing something that could hide the cleavage of her dress. Or do something to get him blind. The latter would do.

Looking over her shoulder, through the long windows, she saw a familiar sails, not the _Pearl's_. It was mild dark brown and green and was sailing straight ahead through the winds. The _Empress_. She snapped her head to look at him as though he was a hundred feet creature with large, slimy tentacles ready to drag her to the depths. Jack had that knowing smile at her. "Missed her, luv?

"Don't I deserve bit 'thank you', Jack?" She whispered through clenched teeth,

Jack merely shrugged and frowned at her sudden desire to change the topic. "Well... thank you, luv."

"That's not it!" Feeling more annoyed, Elizabeth pushed her back against his body as his back crashed against the window. She heard him groaned lowly against her ear as the sensation sent her swirling back to keen awareness- she was starting to flush more as his hand was no longer holding the pistol against her head but across her chest, the other was tightly around her waist. Dear, oh dear...

"Is that it?" He breath came in raspy as he tightened his embrace around her more. She froze, made the notion that she noticed.

"Jack," She warned.

"I guess it's not, then."

"Why did you kill him?"

_ "__I need you to dispose a man." _

_The soft scent of hot tea and the sour taste of those eyes. _

_God, this place makes me sick. _

_And that's what ye call very lawful, no?"_

_Are you sure about this, Jackie? He is, now stop nossing into things. _

_"No, Mr. Sparrow, it's only... politics."_

_Now, you've got a plan to kill us both. _

_One of us will if you won't stop arguing._

_"__And so we've established."_

"Just doing a 'friend' some favor." He watched, his dark eyes glinting with unfathomable look of awry and almost disgust as the governor's body was carried by the maids and men who voluntarily tried to help the situation. "After the same thing, did you?" He whispered, lips almost touching the sensitive skin at the back of her ear that made her took a sharp breath- and he had time to mock her! His hand belt down under her dress, revealing a soft thigh strapped with a pistol as Elizabeth shoved her hips against his probing ministrations, feeling the tips of his fingers against her skin sent lightning jolts in her veins. She thought she had gotten over it long ago.

"Everything was fine as it goes, must I tell you," She smiled tightly at him, "until someone showed up, brilliant, and I ended up here all cold and tired of standing."

"Ah." He softly pressed his lips against the curve of her neck for a brief moment, smelling the sandal wood perfume, sweat and entirely odd that was feminine he found himself addicted to. Retreating didn't work out for him to tear his eyes away from the softly silken flesh, and it was the only thing he could do to prevent from diving for another taste.

_We're foes more likely than lovers_

_What's the difference in there, dearie?_

"Jack."

Smiling, he felt her shudder for a coherent thought to get back to the situation like a hot, flaming cutlass thrown in a cold water. "Shall I kneel for forgiveness, your highness?"

"Let the lady go."

Jack growled in impatience and Elizabeth couldn't help but noticed with a smile so hidden that her lips were almost thin as a needle and nodded her head towards the men, "Perhaps, you could do what they said, shall you?"

Glaring at her, he raised his chin in mock displease. "Who's gonna do what?" He said with a tilt of his head in flourish as though they said Davy Jones was still alive. "You know..."

* * *

The men looked at each other with a puzzled look. _Opportune moment._

"In short he'll never let me go." Elizabeth added as several long 'oh's rose from the crowd.

"Give my regards to Gibbs." That was all he said. Elizabeth felt the coldness surged as his body behind her jerked away, she was being pushed. Multogg caught Elizabeth by the arm, Mulrroy was in front of her quickly as a broken shreds of glass flew around them.

"Remember this day, Miss Swann." He saluted as he flashed the two fingers at her and disappeared through the window. Elizabeth went after as a flame flickered from one of the decks of the _Empress_ as the signal. It was slowly rounding the bay and slowly sailed behind the cliff as Jack must have been running through the forest now.

Find him! Hurry! The governor!

Elizabeth quickly straightened herself from the hold of the poorly concealed trembling hands of the two as she turned to walk away, hedging through the crowd as Murtogg and Mulrroy followed silently behind.

"Who's that, Captain?" The thin man at her side asked, horribly troubled as he shook his head towards what was left of the grand hall. There were tables, chairs and food thrown about. The once polished floor were smudged with red from blood and probably from remaining edifice of the red wine fountain.

"Oh, that?"

Jack showed up isn't a coincidence.

"An unexpected guess."

Finding out is no hard task.

* * *

"I think, that's a bit risky, don't you think?" Jack pushed himself up from the railing and took the dry sheet from a crew member as the others watched by, expectant. He raised a leg and the other as the water fell from his boots down at the hard Huang was quickly on the steps down by unstable stairs, squeezing his way through the crowd and finally in the front point of the captain's immense glare.

"She's fine- finer, I dare say. Even have a sweet chat with those lamentable uniforms and wigs." He nodded as he went passed him, swatting the crew back to their posts as he slithered up the winding path to the helm, cursing the narrow stairs as he did so. They were a buggering lots, this crew, ship- a junk, and this damnable job.

"Seems I was right after all." Jack took a heaving breath with a triumphant glance back at his current first mate. "Hand 'em down, mate." He said, opening his palm toward him as Huang rolled his eyes and took a small bag from his pocket, reluctant as he gave him- the bearings. "What are you going to do about it?" Asked him as the patch of cloth disappeared in one of his pockets.

"Ah, that could wait."

* * *

Jack's there. He killed the man. Her ship was in his hands. Why didn't he went after her to get the _Pearl _back? What does he have to to with all of this? Who's the friend he was talking about?

She heard Multogg's voice behind her, telling something about walking so quick. She didn't care as she rounded a corner and reached the main hall. Mulrroy appeared at the opposite door, breathless he almost can't take a another step without coughing up. Multogg was scolding him and was looking at her worriedly. But Elizabeth only passed by them, scalding the stairs with quick steps and spoke to a soldier beside the door. The soldier went inside and after a moment let her enter.

"So, mission accomplished?" Theodore stared at the cloth in front of him, thrown recklessly over the table by the 'visitor', "You've done well?"

"No." Elizabeth said. He slowly raised his eyes at her questioningly. "Someone else does." She finished.

"Someone else." His face turned amused as she nodded briefly.

"Captain Jack Sparrow." The count dropped his gaze at the cloth, leaning back, he cleared his throat and leaned in over the table. "You mean the pirate lord of Caribbean?" He said evenly between the words.

"My eyes don't lie to me, Theodore." She threatened and he raised his hands in defeat as he pushed himself from the table and stood. "I believe you, I believe you, my dear." He placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled but Elizabeth didn't return the gesture, looking down at his hand with a blank look.

"I don't mind all of that." He assured with a light voice, pointing at the door. "Why don't you take a rest for a while, France is next. We don't need to hurry this time." Before Elizabeth leave the room he turned her around with a slight push and tipped her chin with his two fingers and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

"I send you a message when it's the time." He added inaudibly under her unfaltering stare as she said nothing and left the doors open. It was infuriating somehow, all propriety was a minder of repulsion in her for a moment that she would like to dig her nails into her hair and scrape the pins with detest. The mocking humble expression he wore was rolling in her mind like there's so many layers of mirror surrounding her, and she so wanted to break it into pieces.

"Found anything?" She said without looking much at the person, stopping for a moment to regard his presence. A rustling of feet as though a fabric was being dragged without care, a curse and a satisfied sigh followed. There was clothes being torn.

"Aye. And Yer right! Jack's working for The Count!" Joshamee Gibbs hissed through his teeth with the forked bode-ill written over his face as he replaced the white chef's hat with the worn one he usually wore. He was starting his niggle over what was happening, even to the point that he seems to question the matter of her reasons, which they had on contract not to delve into.

"You two," Elizabeth called with a raise of her head and Gibbs had quieted down quickly, shying away by heading fast to the nearing gate, threw his disguising clothes to whom caught first and waved to the soldier at guard to open them so they can leave. He received a nod and salute as the metal lock was clicked by keys. Gibbs had used them from time to time to sneak into the mansion as his latest captain's agenda and habit. Although he wondered what was she looking for. For what changes he reported every time they make port in the small island would do her benefit.

"Multogg and Mulrroy, Captain." The fat one said as he appeared by her side. Mulrroy, on the other hand, was having difficulty folding the clothes to perfectness as he had always deemed mentioned living in a fair life in an old manor's house for old women. The soldier was actually embarrassed to confess that to her as though she needed his secret history to get promoted as an amateur crew member who can't swim. Although, they were helpful on land in some other cases...

"Prepare to set sail."

"Where to, Captain?"

"East. You know our friend Lord Chevalle."

The two froze.

* * *

Will Jack and Elizabeth meet once again?

Do you like them to?

Please review if you think of something. Anything is acceptable, should you give me opinion if the story is lacking something, or if it's a bit speedy, please do so. But with the further chapters I will heed extra will power to make it all suffice. I intend to make this one a bit mysterious in a way.

And about the British language I've used, I don't really know anything about them. If it's wrong, could you somehow forgive me there? I was trying to emphasize their location somehow. A British port in Caribbean and the Empress being in Jack's possession while his ship was Elizabeth's now. I'll bring that up the next chapters or so.

Thank you very much!


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